


Can I Help You?

by Kadaaver



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol, First Meetings, Gen, it happens later, not in the conversation mind you, prepare for awkward conversation, someone gets shot also, the courier is just as bad with people as arcade is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadaaver/pseuds/Kadaaver
Summary: The tale of Arcade meeting the Courier for the first time. And then a second time.Starring Falk the courier. Sarcastic cowboy deluxe, and shittiest thief in New Vegas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So uhm during two weeks I've played 110 hours of Fallout New Vegas.
> 
> I'm not usually big on "insert OC with canon character" but seeing as thats kinda what Fallout is all about.... welp. Im just gonna help myself. I'm writing this kind of to get to know my Courier, so I can't say for sure where this is going.

The nights in Freeside were seldom calmer than the daytime, but this was one of those rare occasions when the Follower’s camp was delightfully quiet. Arcade could probably count on one hand how many times he had had the opportunity to sit back and relax like this. Not that he often was a part of the main action around here, but he still had a job to be doing.

  
It was about midnight, and while Arcade should actually use this rare occasion to gain some much needed sleep, he had decided to treat himself some undisturbed quiet time with only himself, a scotch and a good book. Not a lot of those around these days. Not decipherable ones, anyway.

He paused to push his glasses up with his knuckle, scratching his eye groggily. He was thankful for the time for himself, but he felt like he shouldn’t push himself to the limit just because. He was exhausted, after all. And the alcohol didn’t help. Arcade wouldn’t go as far as to call himself lightweight, but let’s just say that staying in what is considered the slums of New Vegas didn’t exactly encourage him to touch the stuff that often.

A soft rustle of someone trying to discreetly look into the tent brought his attention up from the book. Through the small opening of the tent flap he spotted a man. A very startled looking man. Like he hadn’t expected to find someone in there. Arcade stared back, waiting for him to say something. Like, who he was and why he was here, for example.

“Uhm,” The guy started.

“I didn’t actually expect to find anyone here.. Hi, I guess..?” He said, looking extremely out of place and not quite sure what he was doing there. Arcade was at a loss of words.

“…Hi. Are you in need of medical assistance?” Arcade prompted, though his tone came out quite confounded.

“Oh! So that’s what this place is. That’s great. That’s really great for Freeside. And no uh, sorry.”

“So you didn’t… Then what are you doing here?”

“Well.. you seem like a perfectly swell guy, so I’ll be perfectly honest with ya. I was hoping to find a surplus of food, grab some, bolt and pray no one would notice.”

Arcade blinked, staring this stranger right in the eye as he admitted to a crime he hadn’t even committed yet. He put down the book on the table next to him, not breaking eye-contact with the stranger.

“So let me get this straight. You planned to steal food from the camp, got yourself… discovered, and immediately confessed your criminal intentions? Not very stealthy.”

The man in the tent-door laughed at that, opening up the flap some more but not fully stepping inside.

“Yeah that’s about it. I don’t know what to say, I’m a really bad thief.”

Now with the door gap a bit bigger, Arcade could make out some features of the failed thief. He was shorter than Arcade by at least a head-length, but made up for it with his thick stature. It was of course difficult to tell, but going by how the man held himself, Arcade was guessing that a lot of that mass was pure muscle. On top of that, he had a full beard that was either black or a dark brown. More detailed facial features was difficult to tell with the poor lighting. But from what limited information Arcade could gather? Kinda handsome.

“Right… You know there’s usually a vendor right down the street from here? At daytime, that is. If you’re really desperate.”

  
“Yeah uhm. Not that desperate.” The stranger said with a sneer, and startled a little chuckle out of Arcade. Grilled radroach maybe wasn’t the greatest.

“No, but in all seriousness,” The stranger continued.

“Sorry about the.. attempted theft? I.. suppose I should be on my merry way before some guard comes around?”

Arcade gave him a very deadpan look. This was so genuinely naïve (and not to mention awkward) that he didn’t have it in him to make any attempt of stopping the guy.

“You know what. It might be the drink I just had, but I have just about zero interest of stopping you.” He said, crossing his legs and picking his glass back up for emphasis. He immediately took note of the grin that broke out on the thief’s face.

“I was right about you being a swell guy! And incredibly classy, by the way. If I wasn’t technically an intruder right now, I’d ask if I could join ya.” He said, winking and making a gesture like he was tipping a hat despite the very clear lack of one.

“Well uh, I’ll see myself out. It was nice chatting with ya, doc. If we cross paths again I hope it’s under less awkward circumstances. Cheers!”

And with that the tent flap fluttered shut, and Arcade was left wondering if that had just happened or if he had completely lost it. Normally, thieves in Freeside would be pretty quick to pull their gun (or alternatively, machete) if under pressure. This thief however, had acted like he was looking for the first best reason to get out of here.

Arcade downed the last content of his glass, remaining sitting for a while and trying to make sense of what just had happened.

His final conclusion was that he seemed to have met a person who was just as bad at lying as himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Arcade had told Julie about the strange encounter with the strangely friendly thief, but it had quickly disappeared to the back of their minds as the days went by. There were more important matters to think about, after all.

Freeside continued to be an incredible source of distress and disaster. Despite Arcade’s assigned job of staying in the back and doing research, he had several times had to lend an extra hand with the patients. He had been hoping for some undisturbed “work” today, so he had tried to remain as invisible as possible in the camp. But it was just like the universe had heard his silent plea, but instead of respecting it, it didn’t give a shit.

The rustle of the tent fabric made Arcade sigh deeply, already knowing what was gonna come next.

But he had _not_ expected to see a bloody Julie Farkas in the doorway.

“I need your help _right now,_ Gannon. This guy was shot like, three times.” She said hurriedly, only stopping for a second to deliver the information before she was rushing back.

Despite his internal reluctance, Arcade bolted out of his chair and hurried after her. Treating addicts and radiation cases was one thing, but when people came in with actual physical trauma it was a bit more intense for the Followers. To begin with, they weren’t exactly equipped to perform more advanced surgeries, nor did the dirty tents meet the hygiene standards for it. They would of course try their best, but it still wasn’t ideal.

There was somewhat of a commotion around the tent, people either being curious or bringing remedies or chems that Julie had requested. Arcade swept past the small crowd and went right up to Julie and the victim.

As a doctor, his first instinct was to take a look on the wounds. It seemed like one bullet to the leg, and two to the abdomen. He motioned Julie aside and took over the bloody rag she was using to put pressure to the wounds on the man’s waist. It was only then Arcade recognized him as the awkward thief from days before. Though that was hardly relevant right now.

“He’s drugged up pretty heavily on Med-X. He shouldn’t be in any pain, so try and get those bullets out.” Julie instructed and handed him a pair of medical pliers. The guy did indeed seem pretty out of it, or at least drifting back and forth. Arcade saw his eyes opening up briefly, and then heard a little laughter. It made the blonde doctor’s eyebrows shoot up in concern.

“So much for.. better circumstances huh.” The man groaned out, clearly having recognized Arcade. He could appreciate the irony of the situation, certainly, and he was kind of impressed that despite having three bullets in his body, this man could still make a joke. Which was a good sign, but talking was the last thing he should be doing right now.

“I need you to lie still, or we’re gonna do more harm than good. Though rest assured, we’re trying to help you.” He said quickly, and then turned his focus to the abdominal wounds.

 

*

 

They had managed to remove the bullet from the leg, and one of the bullets from the abdomen, but it seemed like the man would get to keep that last one. They had wanted to keep the digging around to a minimum, considering intestines, for example. Other than that, by some kind of miracle, the bullets had left the man’s internal organs intact. So after having stopped the bleeding and done their best to clean and wrap up the wounds, it was only a matter of letting him rest.

Arcade had accompanied Julie to the inside of the Fort, both of them quickly shedding the blood-soaked Follower coats for cleaning. Attempted cleaning at least.

“So uhm. That bad thief some days ago?” Arcade blurted out, and watched Julie turn her head with a raised eyebrow.

“It was that guy. The one we just fixed up.”

“Oh huh. So that was why he seemed to know you?” She asked curiously. He had told her about the curious interaction they had their last meeting.

“Yeah, the last thing he said before taking off was that he hoped to meet again under better circumstances.”

“.. Well that didn’t work out so well for him.” She chuckled a bit afterwards, but her expression was warm, showing that despite the semi-dark joke, she meant only well.

Arcade snorted quietly and the subject was dropped, and the two of them proceeded to wash up as best as they could with wet towels.

 

*

 

Curiosity was getting the best of him, Arcade had to admit. Some hours after the makeshift surgery he had went to get a bottle of water (as an excuse, if anyone would ask) and made his way to the closed tent. He discreetly slipped inside, his discretion mostly for his own sake as he had somewhat of a reputation of _not_ wanting to be around their patients. He looked over to the bed, and unsurprisingly the man was still totally knocked out.

There was a table on wheels next to the bed with fresh bandages, disinfectant and other things that might need changing in the near future. Arcade put the water bottle there as well, and then gave the man a lookover again.

This was obviously someone that spent most of his time outside. He looked like he was around Arcade’s age, maybe older. His skin was a healthy brown, covered in a vast amount of scars, big and small. If Arcade were to guess, he’d say that this man was a mercenary of some kind. That, or just ridiculously prone to conflict.

A small stirring startled Arcade out of his thoughts, making him automatically look up to the man’s face. He was looking at Arcade through barely open eyes.

“You.. should not be able to be awake.” Arcade said quietly. He was fairly certain that the man was still knocked out, but he startled a second time when he was proven wrong by receiving a wheezing chuckle in return.

“U-uh, how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“Nah.. whatever y’all pumped me full of is doing wonders, doc.”

“That would be the Med-X. Glad that’s working.” Arcade provided, though he felt a little out of place. He was not socially equipped for this.

“So.. what’s my diagnosis?” He wasn’t looking at Arcade anymore, but had instead turned his face upwards.

“Well. After much speculation, we finally concluded that you’ve got ‘Shot Wounds.’ My condolences.”

Now, one of the many reasons Arcade had to not tend to patients was that sometimes, his wit came faster to him than his manners. Mild sarcasm was usually easy to shrug off, sure. But to a junkie out of their mind from chem-withdrawal, a wrong comment could mean a punch in the face. And it was only afterwards that Arcade realized his slip of tongue.

The man on the bed however was doing some kind of suppressed wheeze-laughter, throwing his head backwards a bit but groaning from the pain it caused him. It had obviously amused him a great deal.

“You seem awfully unfazed for a guy who’s just been shot three times.” Arcade commented when he found his tongue again.

“Yeah I guess. It ain’t exactly my first time on the rodeo.”

After he had said that he tapped his forehead, encouraging Arcade to take a look.

On the right side of his head, there was a scar running over his temple, all the way back behind his ear. It was quite visible since there was no hair growing on the scar tissue.

“You were shot in the _head_?”

“Yeah, been some time now, but I still feel like.. been there, done that, y’know?”

“I.. actually don’t know. And that’s a very casual way to look at it.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, turning his head again to look at Arcade with a tired gaze.

“I’m Falk, by the way.  In case you need something to put on my gravestone.” The man introduced himself, in arguably the most macabre way Arcade had heard yet.

“Maybe not for a gravestone, but a patient journal perhaps.” He said, just to sooth any potential thoughts of impending death. Only after a brief moment of silence did he realize that this was his cue to return the gesture.

“Oh, excuse me. I’m Arcade Gannon. Researcher. Or, well, _barely_ a researcher.” He felt momentarily stumped, it was strange to introduce yourself without extending your hand, he noticed.

“Ahh, a smart one. Lord knows I could use some of that.” Falk quietly laughed again, a thing he seemed to do quite easily.  Arcade would be lying if he said he didn’t find it charming.

“You missed the part where I deliberately tried to discredit myself.”

“Nah. Just ignored it.”

Arcade let a genuine chuckle slip out. He was surprised to find himself actually enjoying the bantering. It came surprisingly naturally to him, and it seemed like the man ( _Falk,_  he reminded himself.) was on the same sarcasm level as himself. He actually felt reluctant to leave so soon, but Falk needed the rest.

“Sorry to cut this short but.. you got some bullet holes to heal. And I have some cacti to dissect. People are gonna check in on you regularly so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

“A’ight doc. Thanks for patching me up.” Falk replied, making a sloppy finger-gun motion as a goodbye.

Arcade felt himself smiling as he walked out of the tent. And like a perfect coincidence, Julie was walking pas right then. Her face lit up in a smile that told him two things; that she was happy, and that she was gonna have _a lot_ questions for later.


End file.
